Total pages in book: 436
Estimated words: 415303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 2077(@200wpm)___ 1661(@250wpm)___ 1384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 415303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 2077(@200wpm)___ 1661(@250wpm)___ 1384(@300wpm)
You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.
“Suck me,” he ordered, leaning back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.
I ran my trembling hands up his thighs until I found his belt. I slowly unbuckled it, my fingertips brushed the heated skin of his stomach. His ab muscles clenched under my touch and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. I shook out my trembling hands, trying to regain some control. When I reached for his zipper, I hesitated.
Desperate people.
Desperate things.
I steadied my hands as much as possible and slowly I dragged his zipper down. I closed my eyes in an effort to calm my erratic breathing, fearful that I was going to pass out and fall into his lap. I was hoping that closing my eyes was going to bring me some sort of comfort knowing I could remove myself from what I was about to do.
I’d just gotten his zipper down and was reaching into his jeans when his voice boomed over me like a cannon shot at close range. I jumped back in surprise, falling ass first onto the carpet.
“What the FUCK?” he roared. With my eyes closed, I hadn’t seen him turn on the side lamp, but when I looked up from the floor, I found myself staring into a beautiful pair of hate-filled green eyes, boring into me like I was the reason for everything wrong with the world.
Familiar eyes.
He pushed my hands away from his fly and grabbed me by the wrists. He stood and yanked me up to my feet, his hard chest pressed up against mine. “I walked in on you earlier, you were having sex with some girl,” I blurted, instantly regretting it. Fuck me and my speak-before-I-think disease.
His tight black wife-beater showcased the ripples of his impressive muscular frame. A myriad of colorful tattoos decorated one side of his neck, chest and shoulders, continuing all the way down both arms to the backs of his hands and knuckles. He wore bracelets that weren’t actually bracelets at all, but leather belts with metal studs wrapped around his wrists and forearms. Dark hair cropped close to his head, a black stud in each ear. A white scar through his right eyebrow. Stubble on his square jaw that was more than a few days past needing a shave.
I thought he was large when he was relentlessly pounding into the girl on the table. Even when he was only a shadow I knew he was big, but in all reality I’d had no concept of the wall of man who stood before me.
This guy didn’t look like he hung with the wrong crowd.
This guy was the wrong crowd.
“You?” he asked. His nostrils flaring as he glared down at me. I don’t know what I did to make him so angry, but getting a look at him in the light made me more fearful than I ever was of him in the dark, and I wished I’d just listened to my instincts earlier and ran when I had the chance.
“Obviously you don’t know shit because if you did you would know that what you saw wasn’t sex.”
“I know what I saw,” I argued.
“No, you don’t because you would know that I wasn’t having sex with her. I was fucking her.” The way he said the word fucking sent a flush of wetness into my panties.
You stupid girl. Your brain must really be damaged, because this is not someone who warrants that type of reaction. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“I’m no one,” I answered, truthfully. My heart ached at hearing the words spoken out loud from my own mouth.
“You’re no fucking biker whore,” he stated flatly. He cocked his head to the side as he stared down at me. Running over my features as if he were trying to figure me out. His gaze lingering on my lips, his tongue darted out to wet his own.
“You don’t know who I am,” I spat. I tried to take a step back but he held me firmly in place.
“No, but biker whores typically don’t tremble and practically hyperventilate when they’re about to suck cock.” He squeezed my wrists tightly and pain shot up my arms.
“Let me go!” I jerked my wrists unsuccessfully from his grip. I needed to get out of there, but he held me even tighter, forcing me backwards until the back of my head hit a wall.
“So you’re saying you do this all the time then? That you know what a guy like me wants? That you know how to suck and fuck like a pro?” He ran his index finger down the side of my cheek and I tried to ignore the heat that lingered in their wake. “You think you can take care of me, little pup? Fine. We can start back up right where we left off.” He guided one of my hands to the front of his pants and held my open palm to the bulging erection threatening to spring from his open jeans. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Aren’t you going to show me how you can make me come?” he taunted, his words a warm whisper against my ear, although the words themselves were cold. Terrifying. I could hear my blood coursing through my veins as my heart beat faster and faster. “You already made me come once tonight.” I looked at him and furrowed my brows.